The photograph was candid. Shot from a distance, slightly grainy. His sister—Y/n, unmistakable even mid-laugh—was being tugged forward by the hand, her head thrown back, caught in a moment of pure joy. The man pulling her had broad shoulders and a shock of red hair, a lazy grin on his face as he glanced back at her.

His voice echoed through the manor's halls. Voices murmured from the kitchen—Alfred's low, measured tone, someone else's deeper reply.

He burst into the kitchen, waving the magazine like evidence at a crime scene.